Lord Of The Flies

Zusatztext " Lord of the Flies is one of my favorite books. I still read it every couple of years." Suzanne Collins! author of The Hunger Games trilogy "I finished the last half of Lord of the Flies in a single afternoon! my eyes wide! my heart pounding! not thinking! just inhaling....My rule of thumb as a writer and readerlargely formed by Lord of the Flies is feel it first! think about it later ." Stephen King "This brilliant work is a frightening parody on man's return [in a few weeks] to that state of darkness from which it took him thousands of years to emerge. Fully to succeed! a fantasy must approach very close to reality. Lord of the Flies does. It must also be superbly written. It is." The New York Times Book Review Informationen zum Autor Sir William Golding was born in Cornwall in 1911. He started writing at the age of seven, but following the wishes of his parents, studied natural sciences and English at Oxford. He served in World War II and following the war, returned to writing and teaching. By the time Lord of the Flies was finally accepted for publication in 1954, it had been turned down by more than twenty publishers. The book became an immediate bestseller. In 1983, Golding was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature, largely based on this book. He was knighted in 1988 and died in 1993. Klappentext William Golding's classic novel of primitive savagery and survival is one of the most vividly realized and riveting works in modern fiction. The tale begins after a plane wreck deposits a group of English school boys, aged six to twelve on an isolated tropical island. Their struggle to survive and impose order quickly evolves from a battle against nature into a battle against their own primitive instincts. Golding's portrayal of the collapse of social order into chaos draws the fine line between innocence and savagery. Zusammenfassung William Golding's classic novel of primitive savagery and survival is one of the most vividly realized and riveting works in modern fiction. The tale begins after a plane wreck deposits a group of English school boys! aged six to twelve on an isolated tropical island. Their struggle to survive and impose order quickly evolves from a battle against nature into a battle against their own primitive instincts. Golding's portrayal of the collapse of social order into chaos draws the fine line between innocence and savagery. ...

"Lord of the Flies is one of my favorite books. I still read it every couple of years." 
—Suzanne Collins, author of The Hunger Games trilogy

"I finished the last half of Lord of the Flies in a single afternoon, my eyes wide, my heart pounding, not thinking, just inhaling....My rule of thumb as a writer and reader—largely formed by Lord of the Flies—is feel it first, think about it later." 
—Stephen King

"This brilliant work is a frightening parody on man's return [in a few weeks] to that state of darkness from which it took him thousands of years to emerge. Fully to succeed, a fantasy must approach very close to reality. Lord of the Flies does. It must also be superbly written. It is." 
—The New York Times Book Review

Autorentext
Sir William Golding was born in Cornwall in 1911. He started writing at the age of seven, but following the wishes of his parents, studied natural sciences and English at Oxford. He served in World War II and following the war, returned to writing and teaching. By the time Lord of the Flies was finally accepted for publication in 1954, it had been turned down by more than twenty publishers. The book became an immediate bestseller. In 1983, Golding was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature, largely based on this book. He was knighted in 1988 and died in 1993.

Klappentext
William Golding's classic novel of primitive savagery and survival is one of the most vividly realized and riveting works in modern fiction. The tale begins after a plane wreck deposits a group of English school boys, aged six to twelve on an isolated tropical island. Their struggle to survive and impose order quickly evolves from a battle against nature into a battle against their own primitive instincts. Golding's portrayal of the collapse of social order into chaos draws the fine line between innocence and savagery.

Leseprobe
THE SOUND OF
THE SHELL

THE BOY WITH FAIR HAIR LOWERED HIMSELF down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way toward the lagoon. Though he had taken off his school sweater and trailed it now from one hand, his grey shirt stuck to him and his hair was plastered to his forehead. All round him the long scar smashed into the jungle was a bath of heat. He was clambering heavily among the creepers and broken trunks when a bird, a vision of red and yellow, flashed upwards with a witchlike cry; and this cry was echoed by another.    "Hi!" it said. "Wait a minute!"    The undergrowth at the side of the scar was shaken and a multitude of raindrops fell pattering.    "Wait a minute," the voice said. "I got caught up."    The fair boy stopped and jerked his stockings with an automatic gesture that made the jungle seem for a moment like the Home Counties.    The voice spoke again.    "I can't hardly move with all these creeper things."    The owner of the voice came backing out of the undergrowth so that twigs scratched on a greasy wind-breaker. The naked crooks of his knees were plump, caught and scratched by thorns. He bent down, removed the thorns carefully, and turned around. He was shorter than the fair boy and very fat. He came forward, searching out safe lodgments for his feet, and then looked up through thick spectacles.    "Where's the man with the megaphone?"    The fair boy shook his head.    "This is an island. At least I think it's an island. That's a reef out in the sea. Perhaps there aren't any grownups anywhere."    The fat boy looked startled.    "There was that pilot. But he wasn't in the passenger cabin, he was up in front."    The fair boy was peering at the reef through screwed-up eyes.    "All them other kids," the fat boy went on. "Some of them must have got out. They must have, mustn't they?"    The fair boy began to pick his way as casually as possible toward the water. He tried to be offhand and not too obviously uninterested, but the fat boy hurried after him.    "Aren't there any grownups at all?"    "I don't think so."    The fair boy said this solemnly; but then the delight of a realized ambition overcame him. In the middle of the scar he stood on his head and grinned at the reversed fat boy.    "No grownups!"    The fat boy thought for a moment.    "That pilot."    The fair boy allowed his feet to come down and sat on the steamy earth.    "He must have flown off after he dropped us. He couldn't land here. Not in a place with wheels."    "We was attacked!"    "He'll be back all right."    The fat boy shook his head.    "When we was coming down I looked through one of them windows. I saw the other part of the plane. There were flames coming out of it."    He looked up and down the scar.    "And this is what the cabin done."
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